Our Rhythm
by Carrieba
Summary: Neville spends his last day at Hogwarts reflecting on his seven years there the trials, the tribulations, the laughter and the love. He knows how far he's come... Oneshot LunaNeville


_Disclaimer: I own none of these wonderful characters; they are all J.K.Rowling's_

_This was written for The Sorting Hat (see my homepage) as a site opening challenge. It had to be a character's last day at Hogwarts and __**must**__ include;  
-- a/some photograph(s)  
-- an argument  
-- a kiss  
-- a spell gone wrong_

**Our Rhythm**

As the end of his Hogwarts era drew near, Neville could be found sitting by the lake, staring thoughtfully into it's rippling depths. He was seventeen; eighteen in a few months, and his life had been undeniably hard in that time. The young man looked back on his tumultuous years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and smiled, it had been a long, long journey, and he could barely remember the nervous little boy he'd once been.

But then again it wasn't so difficult to recall the constant anxiety he'd lived in; of doing something wrong, of being disliked, of disappointing his absent parents…

--

The Sorting Hat rested on his head, falling disobediently over his eyes and obscuring his view of the sea of curious faces.

"What have we here?" it asked rhetorically in his ear. "A Longbottom eh?"

Neville trembled slightly, what if it saw that, actually, he was magically useless and just cast him straight out of Hogwarts? What if it was as strict as his grandmother?

" 'Magically useless'? Dear oh dear, you do seem to be a little insecure. However, there is strength in you yet and… an aptitude. All you need is a little courage and you must remember that courage is not the absence of fear; courage is learning to face your fears…

Your parents would be proud of you because I must put you in _**Gryffindor**_!"

The last was yelled out for the whole hall to hear. Neville thought his knees might collapse with relief; he hadn't been cast out of the School, indeed, the Hat had put him in Gryffindor – the bravest house!

There was clapping and Neville found his was exhaustedly to a seat at the Gryffindor table, he smiled at the other new first years; Harry Potter and that nice but slightly bossy girl, Hermione, he wondered who would be his friends.

--

Neville smiled at the memory that had surfaced, remembering how utterly terrified he had been back then at the tender age of eleven. The Hat had known though, it had seen through the layers of nervousness and self-deprecation and found the true Neville, the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom who had been two of the strongest wizards alive.

Brushing wayward hair out of his eyes, Neville leant back on his elbows, surveying the placid lake as the sun beat down on it. He glanced at the photograph lying beside him in the grass, watched as he and Ginny danced the same circuit again and again during the Yule Ball, he smiled involuntarily as he watched himself accidentally tread on her toe. The pretty redhead winced, but waved away his apologies with a sweet smile.

Neville remembered the crush he'd had on Ginny for the duration of third and fourth year. She'd been so kind and amenable, and had always been happy to sit down and talk to him. Though, he'd known then as he did now, she only had eyes for Harry and Neville had always believed that he would never measure up to the great Harry Potter. So instead he'd taken her friendship with gratitude, and they'd been close ever since. He'd seen her through some tough times… his eyes darkened as he remembered her sixth year fight with Malfoy…

--

It was a regular Tuesday afternoon in February and Neville and Ginny were walking and chatting relaxedly on their way back to the common room. It was pretty crowded as they crossed the courtyard and despite his determinedly platonic feelings towards her, Neville couldn't help but notice how the milky sun glinted off her auburn locks as they fell attractively across her eyes. He shook himself mentally in annoyance; that was not a good path for his thoughts to wander down.

Draco Malfoy stormed past Neville, pushing him roughly to one side.

"Watch it, Ferret!" Ginny exclaimed, reaching to steady Neville.

"S'ok, Ginny," he muttered, evening out his shoulders. It wasn't something he was unused to.

Draco Malfoy had stopped and faced them. He was glaring so hard at Ginny that Neville was surprised there weren't sparks coming off her. "Got quite a mouth on you, Weasel."

"Well you should watch where you're going," Ginny returned, apparently unperturbed that he was staring at her so hard she may explode.

"It's only Longbottom."

The redhead visibly bristled. "You're a total git, Malfoy. You-Know-Who can _have_ you."

"I wouldn't mention things that you don't know about, little girl." Neville took a step back at the dangerous look in the Slytherin's eye.

"C'mon Gin, let's go," he urged.

"No," Ginny said stubbornly. "I think Malfoy should apologise."

The blonde seventh year laughed out loud. Neville thought that, under different circumstances, he would have done too, but he was too busy trying to make sure neither of them ended up in the Hospital Wing.

"Weasley, the day I apologise to _Longbottom_ is the day that hell freezes over; which is never going to happen."

"Whatever," Ginny shrugged in reply. "Deatheater," she muttered.

"What?" asked Draco, his voice disconcertingly smooth and quiet. Neville blanched.

"Well you are, aren't you?" Ginny asked boldly. Neville watched her in part admiration and part horror; she was either completely fearless or completely stupid, and he knew well enough to disregard the latter.

Draco approached her slowly, his steps measured, his eyes chips of ice. "You've got guts, girl, I'll give you that, but you shouldn't talk to me like that when it's only you and you're boyfriend around."

Ginny drew herself up, though she was still a good head shorter than the Slytherin. "He's not my boyfriend," she said. "And touch me, or Neville, and I'll bat-bogey you into next month."

Neville could have sworn he saw a flash of apprehension in Malfoy's eyes; he clearly remembered being on the end of that particular hex only a few years ago. Draco studied Ginny's wand in her hand and the look of steely determination in her eye; "This isn't over," he snapped, turning on his heel and storming away.

If the Gryffindor seventh year had had pom-poms he would have done a little dance. "Phew! Ginny that was _close!_"

She turned back to him with a self-satisfied smirk reminiscent of the Twins. "He's too much of a wimp to have done anything."

--

At the time Neville had smiled, but it turned out that the next three to four months of Ginny's life were the toughest she'd faced. All the Slytherins had it in for her and Draco Malfoy seemed to haunt her every step.

Of course, it then turned out that he was partially infatuated with the youngest Weasley, and eventually things panned out ok, with Ginny and Draco having a strange slightly disjointed relationship which Neville, Harry, Ron and the other Gryffindors surveyed with distrust. Malfoy's don't usually change their spots.

Neville lay back on the soft patch of grass he was on, staring restlessly up at the clouds circling above. A face popped into his vision, a sheet of silvery hair hanging nearly down to his nose.

"Hello Neville."

"Luna," Neville smiled in delight, sitting up. "Sit down."

"How are you enjoying the last day of your last day at Hogwarts?"

"Fine," he agreed, staring into her crystalline blue depths. He had known her really properly since fifth year, but that year had been in a haze of confusion and uncertainty, what with he-who-must-not-be-named return and the fateful freedom of Bellatrix Lestrange, he'd had little time for her.

At the beginning of sixth year though a chance meeting and a realisation had bought them together and he didn't know what he'd have done without her…

--

He had been practising the _expelliarmus_ charm, because his adeptness at it had slipped over the summer. In fact, it had slipped so much that his wand kept flying out of his hand and in various directions; he'd already nearly seriously damaged a Hufflepuff First Year who had run off crying. Neville bit his lip, feeling guilty.

"_Expelliarmus,_" he demanded, pointing his wand toward an offending candlestick holder. In dismay, he watched his wand twist out of his grip and fly back across the abandoned classroom. A small, pale hand plucked it deftly out of the air.

"You need to feel more and flick less," the blonde Ravenclaw told him, holding his wand out.

"Thanks Luna," he replied, wondering what she was doing so far out of her way.

She smiled. "This is my favourite part of the castle, it's quiet and empty."

"Oh," Neville said. He wasn't sure what to say next; it was getting late and he thought that he had missed dinner. "Has dinner been?"

"I went for desert," she nodded.

He smiled, again at a loss for words. She looked really pretty in the twilight, he noticed, her pale skin and hair stood out making her eyes seem darker and her petite frame look even smaller. He was surprised to find himself inclined to reach out and touch the tousled waves of blonde that seemed to go-every-which way, but this was Luna… and she was just a friend wasn't she?

"Neville Longbottom," Luna said, as though she could hear his thoughts. "Will you dance with me?"

"But… there's no music?" he asked, feeling slightly awkward.

She laughed and brought him closer to her, slipping her tiny hand into his. "Exactly; we make our own."

Neville moved self-consciously at first, but soon fell into rhythm with her, swaying to a beat neither of them could hear. "You're really pretty," he blurted out.

She stopped swaying to look into his eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. "You're not so bad yourself."

He coloured and was thankful that it was dark so she couldn't see.

It happened suddenly, like a deliberate accident, a pulling of invisible strings, a yearning on both sides, his lips met hers and they fell back into their silent rhythm. They turned and kissed, and Neville felt a bursting feeling in his chest that made his feel happier, safer and more accepted than he ever had done in his life.

--

It was that rhythm that she now drummed lightly on his chest, her head lying on his abdomen. Their rhythm.

"Luna?" he asked, suddenly sure that he'd never felt like this before with anyone.

She looked up questioningly into his eyes; "Yes?"

"Will you marry me when we leave Hogwarts?"

She smiled that smile of hers which made her eyes glitter with honesty. "I will, Neville. I love you."

Neville closed his eyes in her acceptance; she saw all of him and loved him because of it, regardless of it and for it. Yes, his life had been difficult at times, but he'd do it all again if he knew he'd end up being this happy at the end.

_P.S. My first fanfic :S be nice!_


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